GEORGE  HOLMES  HOWISON 


i 


IN? 


ODES  ON  THE 
GENERATIONS  OF  MAN 


ODES  ON  THE 
GENERATIONS  OF  MAN 


BY 

HARTLEY  BURR  ALEXANDER 

AUTHOR  OF   '' 

"Poetry  and  The  Individual"  and 
"The  Mid-Earth  Life." 


NEW  YORK 

THE  BAKER  &  TAYLOR  COMPANY 
MCMX 


/?%^"C:?    f /« 
-  ' 


COPYKIGHT,   1910,  BY 

THE  BAKER  &  TAYLOR  COMPANY 


Published,  January,  1910 


THE  PREMIER  PRESS 
NEW   YORK 


TO  HUBERT  GRIGGS  ALEXANDER 
BORN  DECEMBER  8,  1909,  HIS 
FATHER  INSCRIBES  THESE  ODES 


851138 


PUBLISHERS'    NOTE 

THE  publishers  beg  to  acknowledge  the 
courtesy  of  Messrs.  Charles  Scribner's  Sons  for 
permission  to  reprint  the  lines  from  "Tiamat" 
to  be  found  on  page  107,  and  also  of  Messrs. 
Longmans,  Green  &  Co.  for  permission  to  re- 
print the  lines  on  page  no  from  Gilbert 
Murray's  translation  of  "  The  Choral  Prayer  " 
from  Euripides. 


OF   THE    POEM: 

A  POEM,  like  a  musical  composition,  is  sus- 
ceptible of  varying  interpretations  according  to 
the  tempo  and  expression  in  which  it  is  ren- 
dered. For  the  more  regular  poetic  structures 
the  rendering  that  answers  to  the  author's 
mood  may  be  expected  to  be  obvious;  but  for 
a  complex  and  varied  poem,  especially  the  ode 
in  irregular  strophes,  the  effective  reading  is 
often  to  be  obtained  only  as  a  result  of  study. 
It  has  seemed,  therefore,  worth  while  (follow- 
ing worthy  precedent)  to  aid  the  interpretation 
of  the  present  composition  by  giving,  for  each 
division,  indications  of  tempo  and  expression 
such  as  are  customary  in  music. 

Of  the  poem's  nine  divisions  the  first  and  the 
last  are  Prelude  and  Postlude, — the  purpose  of 
the  former  being  to  establish  the  perspective  of 
the  composition,  of  the  latter  to  return  to  this 
perspective  with  the  enhanced  insight  gained 
from  the  intervening  themes.  The  Odes  fall 
into  three  groups,  broken  by  two  Interludes. 

[9] 


OF   THE    POEM 

In  the  first  group,  the  Prelude  leads  into  Ode 
I,  which,  moving  with  a  marked  crescendo  to 
an  abrupt  retard,  is  an  interpretation  of  man's 
evolutional  genesis,  while  Ode  II,  slow  and 
poignant,  interprets  his  ideal  evolution.  The 
Interlude  which  follows  is  an  antiphony  of 
voices,  with  a  certain  skyey  note,  as  it  were  on 
a  plane  above,  less  moved  and  more  reflective 
than  the  Odes  and  having  something  of  the 
broad  perspective  of  the  Prelude.  In  the  sec- 
ond group,  Ode  III  resumes  the  material  devel- 
opment of  man,  sinking,  through  three  changes, 
from  the  rapid  history  of  the  inaugural  almost 
to  quiescence  in  the  final  theme, — a  quiescence 
preparing  for  the  slowest  movement  of  all,  the 
vision  of  Ode  IV.  On  the  pause  that  should 
follow,  the  Dithyrambic  Interlude  breaks  im- 
petuously with  a  sharp  iteration  of  the  ideal 
values  of  life,  and  again  as  from  a  plane  re- 
moved. The  third  group  is  formed  of  the  last 
of  the  Odes,  deliberate,  reflective,  and  for  the 
most  part  elegiac  in  tone,  gathering  reminis- 
cently  broken  motifs  of  the  preceding  divisions, 
but  in  its  final  strophe  prophetic  of  the  en- 
hanced insight  of  the  immediate  Postlude. 


SYNOPSIS 

I 

PRELUDE  :  Largo 

Earth!    'Twixt  sky  and  sky  wide  spun. 

II 

ODE  I:  Andante  fiorito 

In  strange  tropic  forests  he  awoke. 

Ill 

ODE  II:  Adagio  pugnente 

Strange  prayers  ascending  up  to  God. 

IV 

ANTIPHONAL  INTERLUDE:  Allegretto  misterioso 

O'er  quiet  prairies  swept  tumultuous  winds. 

V 

ODE  III:  Andante  maestoso 

Of  blood  and  dreams  are  built  the  towns  of  men. 
[13] 


SYNOPSIS 

VI 

ODE  IV:  Grave 

I  had  a  vision  of  the  King  of  Pain. 

VII 

DITHYRAMBIC  INTERLUDE  :  Allegro  appassionato 

Awake!    For  the  white-pillared  porches 
Of  dawn  are  flung  open  to  day! 

VIII 
ODE  V:  Adagio  elegiac o 

There  comes  a  kind  of  quieting  with  years. 

IX 

POSTLUDE  :  Largo 

Earth !   Thou  wert  his  Mother. 


PRELUDE 
Earth!     'Twixt  sky  and  sky  wide  spun 


:L(irgo 

Earth! 

'Twixt  sky  and  sky  wide  spun, 
The  blue  sky  of  the  sun, 
The  black  abyss 
Of  night  and  silence  blent 
Where  to  their  slow  extinguishment 
Fall  fated  stars  and  the  still  years  miss 
All  measurement : 

Earth ! 

Ancient  of  our  days, 

Our  life's  great  mother  and  of  our  mortal  ways 
High  matriarch, 
What  destiny  shall  be 
Beyond  thy  bournes — or  visionry 
Glad  in  phantasmic  splendors  or  a  stark 
And  wakeless  rest 
Sconced  in  thy  stony  breast, — 
What  dooming  makes  or  mars 


ODES 

Beyond  mortality, 

Is  given  us  to  see 

But  as  we  read  aright 

Writ  in  our  mid-earth  life  the  mighty  geste 

Qf  Nature,  but  as  we  guess  the  plan 

That  wrought  the  mind  of  man 

And  gave  him  sight 

Potent  to  gauge  the  pathways  of  the  stars ! 


[18] 


ODE  I 

In  strange   tropic  forests   he  awoke 


II 

'Andante  fiorito 

In  strange  tropic  forests  he  awoke 
From  the  long  brute  dream: 
In  strange  tropic  forests  that  did  teem 
With  golden  insects  and  bright-plumaged  birds, 
With  gliding  serpents  and  the  myriad  herds 
Of  eldritch  things  that  crawl  within  the  dusk: 
All  odorous  the  air  of  myrrh  and  musk, 
And  cloying  honeys,  camphors,  fennels  dense, 
Prickle  and  pungence  mingling  with  incense 
Of  opiate  decay: 
While  all  the  throbbing  day 
The  warm  forestways  did  thrill 
With  singing  sound — with  murmurous  hum 
Of  bees,  and  buzz  and  drone  and  drum 
Of  slim  metallic  wings  insatiate, 
Flutings  of  locusts  and  soft-throated  trill 
Of  slow  reptilians  calling  mate  to  mate: 
Aloft,  scarce  quivered  by  the  torpid  breeze, 
[21] 


ODES 

Swung  leafy  banners,  and  mightily  the  trees 
Were  girt  with  climbing  seekers  of  the  sun : 
Below,  the  speckling  shadows  spun 
Their  lazy  meshes,  and  drowsily  did  play 
O'er  a  sleek  panther  crouched  to  stalk  the  prey 
That  timorously  advanced  that  fatal  way. 

In  strange  tropic  forests,  he,  the  Brute, 
Dreaming  became  the  Dreamer.  . .    From  their 

ease 
He  stirred  his  mighty  limbs,  roused  him  from 

rest, 
Reared  upright  in  his  leafy  crest, 

And  long  and  mute 

He  gazed  afar  where  his  troubled  vision  caught 

Glint  of  the  wide  sea  luring  through  the  trees. 

Was  it  a  touch  unseen 
Of  the  Moulder's  hand  that  swift  and  keen 
Struck  to  the  misty  depths  of  his  forming  mind 
Vague  premonition  of  a  human  kind 
To  spring  from  his  being?    Growth 
[aaj 


ODES 

In  its  pang  of  promise  rousing  him  from  sloth 

Of  brute  life?     Sudden  thrill 

Of  an  age-old  blood  working  its  final  will? 

From  his  lips  there  broke 

A  man-like  cry. 

The  startled  echo  sought 

New  answer  and  new  answer  spoke; 

And  all  the  myriad  listeners  in  their  lairs 

Stood  guard,  and  their  myriad  pairs 

Of  gleaming  eyes  kept  vigil,  while  bodingly 

The  high  heart  beat  with  a  fear  untaught. 

Then  the  swift  wings  brushed 
Through  sibilant  leafage,  and  with  sudden  stir 
From  reedy  depths  rose  angry  hiss  and  burr, 
And  far  and  near  began 
A  hasting  of  the  forest-dwellers'  clan 
And  rustling  flight,  as  if  portentous  word 
The  hidden  hosts  impulsively  had  stirred 
With  direful  message  ominous  of  Man. 
[23] 


ODES 

The  strutting  cock  drooped  low  his  spreading 
plumes 

And  babbled  plaintive  warning  to  his  mate; 
The  parrakeets  slunk  silent  where  the  glooms 

Of  tropic  fronds  might  hide  their  burnished 
state ; 

The  chattering  monkeys  scampered  far  aloft 
Swinging  in  panic  huddle  tree  to  tree, 
And  demonlike  from  out  his  hidden  croft 
The  vampire  dashed  in  blinded  errancy; 
White-bearded  lemurs,  furtive  in  their  nests, 
Betrayed  their  spectral  faces  to  the  day; 

And  sluggish  serpents  reared  their  glittering 
crests 

Up  from  the  humid  mold  with  sinuous  sway — 
Hiss  reechoing  hiss  as  all  their  evil  kind 
Startled  to  dim  forewarning  of  its  foe 
Fanged  fierce  defiance  to  the  conquering  Mind, 
God-demon  to  the  beasts  that  crawl  below. 

God-demon    to    the    beasts    from    whence    he 
sprung 

[24] 


ODES 

Into  the  life  of  Dreamer  dreaming  free 
Out  of  the  Old  the  New — bright  worlds  to  be 
From  every  world  created,  deep  among 
The  farther  stars  yet  farther  burning  clear, 
High  sun  outshining  sun  in  every  sky, — 
Till  glamour  flashes  glamour  on  his  eye, 
And  summons  rouses  summons  in  his  ear, 
And  purpose  waking  purpose  breeds  the  skill 
To  find  the  ways  of  Nature  and  to  bend 
Her  laws  to  his  design,  to  his  her  end, 
And  Destinies  are  humbled  to  his  Will! 

He  swung 

Balanced  with  muscled  ease — 
Courser  of  the  spaceways  of  the  trees — 
Tawn  against  the  sky,  insouciant 
To  all  his  nether  realm's  monstrosity 
Of  nutrient  decay  and  fruitful  leprosy: 
Fat  livid  growths  and  starvelings  gaunt 
Mingling  the  breath 
Of  noisome  life  with  murk  of  death 
[25] 


ODE   II 

Strange  prayers  ascending  up  to  God 


Ill 

Adagio  pugnente 

Strange  prayers  ascending  up  to  God 
Through  all  the  aching  aeons,  year  on  year; 
Strange  tongues  uplifting  from  the  sod 
The  old  antiphony  of  hope  and  fear: 
Strange  if  He  should  not  hear! 

There  was  the  primal  hunter,  where  he  stood 
Manlike,  not  man,  lone  in  the  darkening  wood 
When  fell  the  storm: 
From  hill  to  hill  it  leaped,  snuffed  light  and 

form, 

Licked  up  the  wild, 

And  him — lost  hunter! — him  left  isled 
Mid  desolation.     Bogey-wise 
Down  the  tempestuous  trail 
Gaunt  Terrors  sprang  with  shrill  wolfish  wail 
And  windy  Deaths  flew  by  with  peering  eyes .  .  . 
Then  in  the  dread  and  dark 
To  the  dumb  trembler  staring  stark, 


ODES 

Just  for  the  moment,  beaconlike  there  came 

The  Ineffable,  the  Name ! .  .  . 

Oh,  wildered  was  the  dull  brain's  grope 

With  anguish  of  a  desperate  dear  hope 

Escaping ! .  . .    'Twas  a  Name 

Not  his  to  frame 

Whose  clouded  eye,  tongue  inarticulate, 

Thought's   measure    and   thought's   music   yet 

await : 

Not  his  the  Name.  .  .but  such  the  hunter's  cry 
As  souls  do  utter,  that  must  die ! 

There  was  the  bronze-hued  youth  who  knelt  in 

awe 

Within  a  shrine  of  cypress  and  of  fern 
Dewed  with  baptismal  spray 
From  the  granite  urn 

Of  the  down-plunging  cataract,  giant-wrought. 
Night  and  day 

With  yearning  eyes  he  sought 
The  vision  that  the  waters'  sprite  should  give 
[32] 


ODES 

To  be  his  totem, — signing  his  right  to  live 

And  die  the  warrior,  soul  secure 

That  with  him  stood 

The  invisible  brood 

Of  valiant  powers  peopling  his  solitude. 

Against  the  gleaming  blue 

From  the  bald  crag  there  flew 

The  Eagle  of  his  dreams,  and  far  and  clear 

Above  the  choric  waters,  to  his  ear: 
"  I  am  the  Wakan  of  the  Middle  Sky,1 
"  Dwelling  the  Shining  Quiet  nigh, — 
"  Come  follow,  follow,  follow !    Glory  is  on 
high!" 

Oh,  light  to  endure 

Is  ache  of  fast  and  vigil,  be  the  cure 

This  right  with  eagle  gaze  deep  worlds  to  span ! 

So  strode  he  to  his  tribesmen  a  warrior  and  a 
man. 

There  was  the  savage  mother  :  she  who  gave 
Her  child,  her  first-born,  wailing  into  the  hand 

[33] 


ODES 

Of  the  black  priest,  upright  at  the  prow.  .  . 

The  glistening  bodies  rhythmicly  did  bow, 

And  from  the  rushy  strand 

Broad  paddles  drave 

The  sacrificial  craft  with  gauds  bedecked. 

He  held  it  high — 

With  mummery  and  mow 

The  fetish  priest  held  high 

The  offering, — then  stilled  its  cry 

Beneath  the  torpid  wave.  .  . 

Sudden  the  pool  was  flecked 

With  scaly  muzzle,  yellow  saurian  eye, 

And  here  a  fount  of  crimson  bubbling  nigh ! .  .  . 

Shout  came  answering  shout 

From  all  the  horde 

That  round  about 

Waited  the  sign  of  fetish  god  adored, 

Waited  the  sign  with  lust  of  blood  implored ! .  .  . 

But  she — the  mother, — in  her  eyes  there  shone 

A  dazzle  of  calm  waters,  and  her  heart's  flood 

Was  dried,  and  bone  of  her  bone 

[34] 


ODES 

Burned  in  her,  and  she  stood 
Like  to  an  image  terrible  in  stone. 

Aye,  men  have  prayed 

Strangely  to  God: 

Through  thousand  ages,  under  thousand  skies, 
Unto  His  thousand  strange  theophanies, 
Men  have  prayed.  .  . 
With  rite  fantastic  and  with  sacrifice 
Of  human  treasure,  scourged  with  the  heavy  rod 
Of  their  own  souls'  torment,  men  have  prayed 

Strangely  to  God.  . . 
East,  North,  South,  West, 
The  quartered  Globe, 

Like  a  prone  and  naked  suppliant  whose  breast 
A  myriad  stinging  memories  improbe — 
Hurt  of  old  faiths, 
And  the  living  scars 

Of  dead  men's  anguish,  slow-dissolvent  wraiths 
Of  long-gone  yearnings,  and  delirious  dream 
Of  sacrificial  pomp  and  pageant  stream : 
[35] 


ODES 

Gods  of  the  nations  and  their  avatars ! — 
East,  North,  South,  West, 
The  suppliant  Globe 

Abides  the  judgment  of  the  changeless  stars, — 
Abides  the  judgment  and  the  answering  aid 
Of  Heaven  to  the  prayers  that  men  have  prayed 
Strangely  to  God. .. 

Out  of  the  living  Past, 
Children  of  the  dragon's  teeth,  they  spring 
Full-panoplied — the  idols  vast 
That  man  has  wrought  of  man's  imagining 
For  man's  salvation. . . 
Isle  and  continent,  continent  and  isle, 
Lifting  grim  forms  unto  his  adoration 
In  tireless  variation 
Of  style  uncouth  with  style, 
Until  the  bulky  girth 
Of  the  round  zoned  Earth 
Is  blazoned  o'er 

As  with  a  zodiac  of  monsters,  each  dread  lore 
[36] 


ODES 

In  turn  begetting  dreadful  lore. 

The  gods  of  Aztlan  :2  Huitzil,  gorge  agape, 

His  threatening  barb 

Uplifted,  body  girt  chain  upon  chain 

With  jewels  in  the  shape 

Of  human  hearts, — Huitzil,  and  he, 

The  lord  of  winged  winds  and  the  lord  of  rain, 

Quetzal,  gorgeous  in  his  garb 

Of  tropic  plumage;  and  a  deity 

Than  these  more  awful — the  subtile  one 

Whose  form  to  sight  is  glass  and  to  the  touch 

Is  thinnest  air, — 

Tezcatlipoca,  joying  to  make  his  couch 

Deep  in  the  thoughts  of  men,  and  there, 

Behind  the  screen  of  sense, 

Invisible,  impalpable,  immense, 

Begetting  wrathful  war.  .  . 

Stair  after  wretched  stair 

The  captive  mounts  the  teocalli's  height, 

Where  wait  the  ministers  of  the  bloody  rite 

[37] 


ODES 

Mid  murk  of  smoking  altars.  Scarce  the  prayer 
Escapes   his   parched   lips,    ere  the   throbbing 

heart 

Is  raised  to  Tonatiuh,  to  the  Sun, — 
And  blare  of  conches  and  the  shrill  upstart 
Of  pipes  proclaim  the  blood-bought  benison : 
How  God  at  last  with  man  is  wholly  one 
Beneath  the  burning  mansions  of  the  Sun ! 

They  arise 
From  the  dark  burials  of  the  nations : 

From  plain  and  mountain,  from  desert  and 
from  field, 

Like  ghostly  monarchs  from  a  tomb  long 
sealed, 

They  arise — 

These  living  dead,  mid  echoing  sound 
Of  olden  supplications: 
Isis,  and  her  lord  Osiris  bound 
In  mummying  cerements; 
Thoth,  of  the  hawklike  head, 
Bearing  the  mystic  Book  that  read 

[38] 


ODES 

Unto  the  living  the  secrets  of  the  dead; 

And  out  of  the  Orient,  the  azure  queen, 

Astarte  of  the  Skies,  serene 

Above  her  horned  altars,  with  the  sweet 

Of  myrrh  and  frankincense 

And  the  multitudinous  bleat 

Of  bullocks  honored  ;   she  of  Ind, 

Kali,  the  black,  passing  like  a  wind 

With  blight  and  pestilence; 

And    the    giant    ape,    red    Hanuman,    her 

mate 

In  might  immortal  and  immortal  hate; 
Ormazd  and  Ahriman  warring  light  with 

night  ;3 

And  Mithras,  the  Conqueror,  who  gave 
The  blood  baptism  of  the  cave 
Men's  souls  to  save; 

And  nigh  these,  the  lordly  ones  and  bright 
Who  in  their  godly  right 
Of  beauty  ruled  and  feasted  on  Olympus' 

height. 

[39] 


ODES 

From  the  dark  burials  of  the  nations 
Mid  echoing  supplications 

They  arise . . . 
Mid  echoing  supplications: 
Prayers  and  cries 

Of  men  in  strait  of  battle,  ecstasies 
Of  saints,  and  the  deep-toned  call 
Of  prophets  prophesying  over  all 
The  devastation  of  a  kingdom's  fall.  . . 
The  ruins  of  the  temple  still  resound 
With  women  weeping  Tammuz'  yearly  wound; 
And  still  from  out  the  vale 
Do  ghostly  voices  lift  the  ancient  wail 
Of   those    who    gashed    their    bodies,    crying 

"Baal!    Baal!" 

When  Baal  was  gone  ahunting.  Still  Mahound 
Leads  desert  hordes  to  battle: 
"Allah!     Ya  Allah!     Ya  Allah  ilah  Allah !  " 
And  Paradise  is  found 
In  arch  of  flashing  cimetars.     Still  go 
In  nightly  revelry  through  field  and  town 
[40] 


ODES 

Curete,  Bacchant  and  wild  Corybant,4 

Rapt  Maenad  by  the  god  intoxicant, 

And  the  swift-dancing  rout 

Of  frenzied  Galli  raising  olden  shout 

To  Attis  and  to  Cybele : 

"  lo  Hymenaee  Hymen  lo ! 

"  lo  Hymen  Hymenaee !  "  . . . 

While  adown 

The  vanished  centuries  endure 
The  chanting  of  dead  Incas :   "  Make  me  pure, 
"  O  Vira  Cocha,  make  me  ever  pure !  " . . . 

— There,  in  the  blackness  of  Gethseman's  grove, 
One  anguisht  night  He  strove 
Mightily  with  God. . . 
Hour  by  hour  there  passed 
Athwart  the  gloom 

A  huge  ensanguined  image,  like  a  shadow  cast 
By  outstretched  arms,  and  overspread 
The  living  and  the  dead 
Throughout  the  wide  world's  room. . ., 
[41] 


ODES 

And  so  His  prayer  was  said, 
And  answered. 

Oh,  up  to  God 

Through  all  the  aching  aeons,  year  on  year, 

Men's  prayers  ascend, 

In  hope  and  fear 

Striving  to  bend 

His  pity  and  His  wrath  forefend. . . 

Strange  if  He  should  not  hear! 


[42] 


ANTIPHONAL   INTERLUDE 

O'er  quiet  prairies  swept  tumultuous  winds 


IV 


First  voice: 

O'er  quiet  prairies  swept  tumultuous  winds 
Through  the  wide-pasturing  skies  their  bil- 
lowy flocks  aherding; 
While  poised  on  the  marge  of  day  the  lingering 

sun 
The  circle  of  the  earth  with  zones  of  flame 

was  girding.  . . 

And,  oh,  the  heart  of  man  beat  high  with 
hope  past  wording ! 

Second  voice: 

Summons  of  the  western  sea, 

Lure  of  the  sunset  gold, 
Tales  of  the  things  to  be 

By  the  mighty  ones  of  old, 
Into  his  spirit  borne  with  a  poignancy  untold. 

[45] 


ODES 

First  voice: 

From  the  mummying  East  he  came,  a  wanderer, 
At  last  the  tropic  thrall  of  her  lotos-dream 

outstriven, 

From    her    whispering    embraces    at    last    re- 
leased,— 
As  into  an  alien  world  from  their  sweet  Eden 

driven, 

In  mournful  quest  of  peace  wander  souls  un- 
shriven. 

Second  voice: 

Forth  of  the  ancient  East 
Into  the  glowing  West, 
'Dream  of  a  richer  feast 

Filling  his  aching  breast 

With  an  ever  new  desire,  with  an  ever  old 
unrest. 


[46] 


ODES 

First  voice: 

Oh,  far  it  is  to  the  hills  whose  climbing  peaks 
Ensentinel  the  plain  like   armored  wardens 

shining; 
And  far  it  is  where   the  stars  their  watches 

keep, 
Above   the  dark  abyss  in   spacious   courses 

twining.  . . 

And  far  to  the  final  haven  foreseen  of  the 
heart's  divining. 

Second  voice: 

Out  of  the  level  plain, 
Into  the  silent  skies, 
Rises  the  glittering  chain 

Like  a  coast  of  Paradise, 

And  the  spirit  of  man  is  big  with  yearning  of 
high  emprize. 


[47 


ODES 
First  voice: 
The  spirit  of  man  ever  burns  for  the  things 

unseen, 
When  strong  in  moody  will  the  valiant  soul 

rejoices, — 

But  only  the  Sages  of  Pain  can  reckon  the  toil, 
And  only  the  Choosers  can  tell  the  cost  and 

the  gain  of  their  choices .  .  . 
Far  down  the  aisles  of  Time  echo  their  ring- 
ing voices: 

Second  voice: 

1  Who  conquereth  through  pain, 

His  be  the  eagle's  share! 
He  shall  ride  the  hurricane, 

He  shall  nest  in  the  thunder's  lair, 
And  the  solitudes  of  Heaven  by  the  might  of 
his  pinions  dare !  " 


[48] 


ODES 

First  voice: 

Men  walk  in  ways  untrod,  seeking  the  goal 
In  mystic  oracles  by  the  archons  of  life  fore- 
spoken, 

And  the  pace  is  ever  slow  and  the  step  is  halt, 
And  many  there  be  are  lost,  and  many  there 

be  are  broken, 

And  whoso  is  strong  in  the  race  his  brow 
bears  a  terrible  token. 

Second  voice: 

Token  it  is  of  thought 

That  hath  easelessly  inbled, 
Sight  that  his  eyes  have  caught— 

Like  a  seeing  by  the  dead — 
Of  the  far  alluring  plains  his  feet  may  never 
tread. 


[49] 


ODES 

First  voice: 

From  the  ancient  East  he  came  into  the  West 
In  the  dawn  of  his  human  life,  in  the  days  of 

his  soul's  unbinding, 

And  out  of  the  West  to  the  East  with  the  cir- 
cling years, 
And  out  of  a  blinded   Past  into  a   Future 

blinding.  .  . 

For  the  course  of  his  star  is  set  to  ways  be- 
yond his  finding. 


[50] 


ODE   III 

Of  blood  and  dreams  are  built  the  towns  of  men 


Andante  maestoso 
Of  blood  and  dreams  are  built  the  towns  of 

men: 

Of  bitter  blood  and  lustful  dreams  of  power, 
And  of  men's  black  endeavor  and  the  tears 
Of  pallid  women  weeping  through  the  years. 

The  slow-unwinding  scroll 

Measures  the  centuries .  .  .  and  at  her  hour, 

Answering  the  summons,  comes 

Each  city, — as  after  battle,  to  the  roll 

March  broken  regiments 

With  throb  of  sullen  drums .  .  . 

Each  city  comes,  rising  avast 

From  out  sepulchral  cerements, 

And  then, 

Like  a  dissolvent  spectre,  sinks  again 

Into  her  buried  past. 

[53] 


ODES 

Memphis  is  gone 

And  Thebes  of  an  hundred  gates, — 

But  still  the  Sphinx  unblinkingly  awaits 

The  reader  of  her  riddle,  and  still 

With  each  recurrent  dawn 

The  disked  sun 

Smites  singing  Memnon. 

Where  now,  where  now,  are  those 

Whose  pageantries  did  fill 

The  cities  of  the  living?    They  are  led 

In  bonds,  with  veiled  head, 

Into  still  chambers — and  the  light  and  laughter 

Of  their  feasts  hath  followed  after.  . . 

Oh,  wiselier  skilled, 

The  dark  twy-crowned  Pharaohs 

Wiselier  did  build 

Their  desert  cities  of  the  dead ! 

Whose  burning  granite  sears 

Their  kingly  names  into  the  passing  years. 

[54] 


ODES 

As  in  a  dream  I  saw  the  aching  myriads 

Toiling  the  toil 

Stupendous  of  the  pyramids.  .  . 

Athwart  the  soil 

They  dragged  the  monolithic  stones, 

And  far  and  near  did  flash 

The  whipster's  ruddy  lash : 

I  heard  the  groans 

Of  men  that  labored  dying, 

And  I  heard  the  sound 

Of  little  children  crying.  .  .crying.  .  . 

Then  my  dream  vanished;  and  I  saw  instead 

A  silent  desert,  and  mound  with  mound 

The  crumbling  habitations  of  the  dead. 

Memphis  and  Thebes  are  gone, 

And  mighty  Babylon! 

She  that  league  on  league  was  girt 

With  brazen-gated  walls,  whilst  the  spires 

Of  her  thousand  temples  shone  with  the  fires 

Of  a  thousand  altars  :   Babylon ! 

[55] 


ODES 

Doughty  to  keep  or  hurt, 

Mightiest  thou  wert 

In  all  the  plain  of  Shinar! — 

Wide  Shinar,  where  anciently  was  sung 

In  Accad's  perished  tongue, 

The  war  of  Light  and  Chaos:5  how,  flashing 

leven, 

Lordly  Marduk  strave 

With  cloudy  Tiamat,  and  from  her  body  clave 
Earth  and  high  Heaven. . . 
While  jubilant 
The  dancing  stars  their  morning  joy  did  chant. 

E'en  from  the  voiceless  days 

Of  man's  beginnings,  within  her  ample  halls, 

The  pov/erful  and  the  wise   have  held  their 

state : 

Priest-kings  that  sate 
In  judgment  by  the  temple  gate; 
Monarchs  loud  in  the  praise 
Of  long-forgotten  gods;  the  patient  seers 
[56] 


ODES 

Who  through  uncounted  years 

Charted  the  nightly  heavens;  conquerors 

In  unrecorded  wars ; 

And  contrite  builders,  paying  holy  debt 

Of  symboFd  towers,  that  yet 

Were  but  memorials  of  memorials. 

Wise  Hammurabi,  he  who  set 
On  graven  tables  men's  first  laws; 
Sargon,  with  bonds  of  stubborn  clay 
Binding  the  free  Euphrates;  and  that  queen, 
Glorious  in  strength,  terrible  in  spleen, 
Whose  name  still  awes 
The  centuries, — Semiramis !     Yea, 
And  after  these,  the  form — 
Shadowy  and  colossal  as  the  desert  Jinn — 
Of  him  who  like  a  whirling  storm 
On  Judah  fell, 
And  for  her  impious  sin 
Carried  her  wailing  to  captivity, — 
Nebuchadrezzar,  mighty  under  Bel ! . . . 
[57] 


ODES 

And  Cyrus  came,  and  the  Great  King 

Darius,  and  o'er  Asia  furled 

The  Persian  wing. 

And  after,  out  of  Macedon  came  he, 

The  splendid  Greek,  who  won 

Domain  of  the  level  world, 

And  died  in  Babylon. 

So  she  that  was  the  Seat  of  Life, 
She  is  become  a  mound 
Of  sunken  ruin,  compassed  round 
With  silence.    Her  palaces  begot 
In  the  emulous  strife 
Of  dynasties,  her  temples  crowned 
Each  with  its  golden  ziggurat — 
Labor  of  captive  nations  long  ago, 
Whose  final  course  was  run 
Beneath  a  pestilential  sun 
For  kingly  pleasure  and  for  kingly  show,- 
They  are  become  but  heaps 
Of  rotting  bricks,  where  stealthily  creeps 
[58] 


ODES 

Down  the  forgotten  stair 

The  gaunt  cat  of  the  desert  to  his  lair. 

Who  reckoneth  the  roll 
Of  perished  cities?.  .  . 
Lost  Nineveh 

O'erwrit  with  boast  of  carnage,  and  the  strewn 
Boulders  of  Persepolis,  and  far  Pasargadae, — 
Oh,  big  in  pomp  and  pride  were  they, 
And  lean  in  pities ! .  .  . 

And  Petra,  from  the  living  rock  strange-hewn; 
And  athwart  the  desert  way, 
Palmyra  of  the  Pillars  taking  toll 
Of  laden  caravans;  gray  Sidon  by  the  Sea, 
And  siege-strong  Tyre;  Sardis  rich  in  gold 
And  in  lust  richer;  and  Priam's  town, 
Ilion,  of  old 
For  war  high-armed! 
Yea,  and  lovely  in  abandonment 
As  a  charmed  princess  in  a  castle  charmed, 
The  marble  tent  of  Mogul  Akbar6.  . . 
[59] 


ODES 

And  the  great  exemplar, 

She  that  was  ground  unremittingly 

Betwixt  the  upper  and  the  nether  mill, — 

In  dreadful  alternation  bent 

Beneath  the  supple  claws 

Of  the  lithe  Egyptian,  or  stricken  down 

By  the  muscled  bull,  Assyria, — 

Zion,  builded  on  a  hill ! .  .  . 

And  last,  giver  of  their  laws 

Unto  the  nations,  Imperial  Rome, — 

Like  some  vast  volcanic  dome 

That  falling  into  ashes  stars 

The  waste  with  lurid  splendors. 

They  pass 

Like  dreams  of  glory,  and  their  names 
Become  as  sounding  brass, 
And  their  lordly  vaunt 
Is  in  men's  mouths  a  byword  and  a  taunt 
As  cities  shall  pass, — or  in  the  flames 
Of  swift  disaster,  or  in  the  rust 

[60] 


ODES 

Of  years, — each  to  its  due  extinguishment 

Under  the  sun .  .  . 

Until  to  the  lingering  one — 

Some  far  broad-domed  Bokhara  falling  into 

dust— 
The  planet  stays  her  nutrient  yield, 

And  the  desert  gates  are  sealed 

On  the  last  oasis  of  a  dying  continent. 

Ah,  shall  there  be  ere  then 
The  Perfect  City?... 
The  city  wistfully  forethought 
By  men  whom  men  count  wise: 
As  in  a  stately  dream 
To  Plato  came  in  marble  Academe 
His  vision  of  the  City  of  the  Blest — - 
A  vision  in  her  dim  unrest 
By  the  imagination  pearled 
To  harmonize  an  inharmonic  world, — 
A  place  of  marvel,  more  to  the  soul's  emprize 
Than  Cibola's  golden  seven,7 — Utopia,  wrought 
Of  strength  and  beauty ! .  . . 
[61] 


ODES 

Her  spacious  plan 

Is  broad  to  house  the  nations,  her  citizen 

Is  such  a  Man 

As  was  designed 

By  the  Archetypal  Mind 

When  in  shadowy  seas  began  the  strife 

Of  life  begetting  and  destroying  life — 

A  Man  destined  to  reign 

High  Overlord  of  Fear 

And  King  of  Nature,  holding  as  his  domain 

The  charted  sphere ! . . . 

Ah,  shall  there  yet  be 
This  Earthly  Paradise? 
This  habitation  of  felicity 
Foretokening  the  City  of  the  Skies? 
This  seat  of  mortal  bliss 
Whose  image  renders 
Unto  the  spiritual  eye 
Forevision  of  that  vast  metropolis 
Of  the  immortals, 

[62] 


ODES 

Which  to  the  soul  lays  ope 

Eternal  portals?.  .  . 

Altitude  o'er  altitude  lifting  high 

Its  emulous  splendors — 

Whereof  the  culmen  is  the  Cosmic  Hope  1 ... 

To-day  the  cities  that  we  build 
Possess  a  monstrous  beauty, — as  if  material 
Dug  in  some  quarry  of  old  thought, 
Some  castle  ruinous  of  mind,  some  burial 
Of  dead  desire, 

Mossed  block  by  mossed  block  were  drawn 
And  carven  to  an  airy  vision  caught 
From   the   large   magnificence   of  the   mellow 

dawn.  .  . 

Till  with  dome  and  pinnacle  and  spire 
Each  in  its  own  resplendancy  afire 
Appears  the  City,  many-hilled 
And  glorious, — summoning  on  and  on 
In  iterance  majestical 
Like  ringing  prophecies  long  unfulfilled. 
[63] 


ODES 

Oh,  we  have  heard 

The  summoning  of  the  City  from  afar! 

Calling  with  a  blurred 

And  multitudinous  voice,  like  the  voice  resolvent 

Of  the  waves  upon  a  distant  bar; 

And  her  echoing  word, 

Sovereign  and  solvent, 

Has  drawn  us  as  a  spell 

Living  and  irresistible: 

"I  am  the  City. .. 
"  The  secret  thing  ye  seek 
"  My  lips,  my  lips,  my  myriad  lips  alone 
"Are  wise  to  speak: 

"I  am  the  City. .. 
"  The  life  that  ye  would  live 
"  My  life,  my  life,  my  manifold  life  alone 
"Is  strong  to  give: 

"I  am  the  City..." 
We  have  heard, — and  for  a  day, 
As  in  some  dusty  caravanserai 
Cosmopolite  with  pilgrims,  we  have  sate 
[64] 


ODES 

Within  her  gates,  disconsolate 

For  the  still  and  starry  zone 

Of  night  and  the  sea's  resurgent  monotone. 

From  the  low  flood,  murky  as  the  Styx, 

That  soughs  and  licks 

Along  her  massy  and  tenebrous  base 

With' changeful  treachery  of  calm  and  race, 

The  city's  skyline  rises,  jagged,  black, 

Against  the  lightening  east, — funnel  and  stack 

Each  with  its  waft  of  sullen  fume 

Outwavering,  like  a  fetid  plume 

Flaunted  in  the  face 

Of  morning  purity, — 

Until  the  city  seems  to  be 

Some  grim  volcanic  chain 

Upheaved  athwart  the  sombre  plain, 

Yet  dully  quaking, 

Of  a  continent  in  the  making. 

And  she  is  the  house  of  life 
And  the  palace  of  desire, 
[65] 


ODES 

And  all  her  ways  are  thronged  with  hurrying 

feet, 

And  all  her  stately  edifice  is  rife 
With  seekers  for  a  hidden  sweet.  .  . 
And  she  is  the  house  of  death 
And  a  charnel  of  perished  hope, 
And  all  her  dark  foundations  are  bestead 
Mid  bones  of  men  that  for  her  hire 
Inbreathed  her  pestilent  breath.  .  . 
And  in  her  noisome  alleys  grope 
Wan  mothers  grieving  for  their  tiny  dead.  . . 

She  hath  twain  souls: 
Whereof  the  one 

Is  metal'd  o'er  with  armor,  plate  on  plate 
Of  gold  and  shining  silver  conflagrate 
And  steel  of  curious  enginry, 
Till  like  the  molten  sun 
He  is — Mammon,  who  takes  his  tolls 
Of  women's  love  and  of  the  strength  of  men, 
And  of  youth's  hot  blood  and  aching  visionry, 
[66] 


ODES 

Eking  a  senile  and  decrepit  joy 

From  the  ranger  fancy  of  the  boy 

Caught  by  the  glitter  of  his  shrewd  decoy.  .  . 

Mammon  is  the  one.    His  mate 

Is  nameless,  a  spirit  sovereign 

And  dark,  whose  stern  far-seeing  gaze 

Searches  the  hidden  ways 

Of  life,  and  reads  the  regnant  fate 

That  measures  weal  to  come 

Against  her  present  hecatomb. 

High  on  a  swinging  beam — 

The  collar  of  a  tower,  taut 

With  steely  rib  and  tendon,  building  nigher 

To  heaven  than  e'en  Babel  did  aspire, — 

Stood  forth  the  Man,  the  Maker,  caught 

Up  into  the  skies ... 

He  gazed  below 

Into  the  street — a  microscopic  show 

Aswarm  with  skurrying  atomies; 

Then  raised  his  eyes 

[67] 


ODES 

O'er  plain  and  river  and  far-shimmering  seas, 
Unto  the  quiet  blue .  .  . 
And  his  spirit  grew 
Glad  in  eternal  majesties, 
And  the  works  of  men  did  seem 
But  frail  and  wind-blown  tenements 
Marking  the  slow  ascents 
Unto  the  splendors  of  his  ancient  dream. 

Of  blood  and  dreams  are  built  the  towns  of 

men: 

Of  bitter  blood  and  lustful  dreams  of  power, 
And  dreams  of  beauty. .  . 
Throughout  the  years 

Meted  by  men's  endeavor  and  women's  tears, 
Like  regiments  to  duty, 
They  come,  answering  the  roll — 
City  on  city  and  nation  after  nation .  . . 
And  throughout  the  years 
On  far  horizons  aye  appears 
The  City  of  the  Spirit,  biding  the  hour 
[68] 


ODES 

Of  advent  and  of  consecration.  .  . 

Yea,  throughout  the  years 

Man's  aspiration  finds  its  changeless  goal 

In  aspiration. 


[69] 


ODE    IV 

/  had  a  vision  of  the  King  of  Pain 


VI 

Grave 

I  had  a  vision  of  the  King  of  Pain 
In  awful  crucifixion  high  enthroned 
Within  the  hollow  of  a  universe 
Emptied   of   light   and   substance:   there   was 

night 

inimitably  deep,  whose  galaxies 
Were  shrunk  to  puny  and  ineffectual  stars 
And  brought  to  naught  mid  spacious  desolation. 

I  saw  a  ghostly  glamour  spun  afar 
Athwart  the  surface  of  the  black  abyss 
In  nebulous  perturbation,  and  I  heard 
A  sound  like  to  a  smothered  turbulence 
Of  distant  and  distressful  multitudes 
Whose  myriad  voices  were  molten  to  one  cry 
As  metals  in  a  furnace  to  one  heat. 
[73] 


ODES 

They  were  the  souls  of  human  agonies, 
The  countless  spirits  of  the  hurts  that  men 
Have  suffered  for  the  making  of  the  world: 
Harsh  pangs  of  birth  and  grievings  for  the 

dead 
And  smarts  of  passion,  and  strain  of  them  that 

strove 

Till  broken  on  the  rack  of  their  endeavor, 
And  the  wound  of  them  that  sought  with  sight- 
less eyes. 

Out  of  the  nether  night,  a  spectral  train, 
They  came,  mounting  her  gloomy  altitudes 
In  a  huge  crescendic  flame  of  living  torments; 
And  they  bore  faces,  faces  fixed  and  terrible 
Like  to  the  faces  of  men  dead  in  anguish ; 
And  they  uplifted  pleading  arms — yea,  myriads 
Of  pleading  arms  they  raised  emptily  on  high. 

They  were  the  souls  of  human  agonies 
Caught  up  into  a  vast  and  eddying  throe 
[74] 


ODES 

Of  wraths  and  woes  and  tears,  and  far  outspun 
By  the  great  whorl  of  changeless  destinies; 
They  were  the  souls  of  human  agonies 
Offered  upon  the  altar  of  the  world 
In  expiation  of  the  cosmic  sin. 

Out  of  the  night  they  came  tumultuously 
Upsurging  through  the  void  until  they  rose 
Unto  the  awful  station  of  the  Throne 
Of  suffering,  whereof  th'  ensanguined  light — 
Like  to  the  searching  rays  with  which  the  sun 
Metes  out  the  millions  of  the  comet's  miles — 
O'er  that  dread  train  shot  sanguine  revelation. 

And  all  their  clamorous  and  woeful  cry 
Was  blended  to  a  deep  threnodic  prayer 
For  pity,  that  did  beat,  as  shattered  waves 
Upon  a  rock,  desirous  and  despairing, 
High  on  the  cosmic  Calvary,  where  his  Rood 
Did  mightily  upbear  the  thorn-crowned  King 
Above  the  abysmic  center  of  the  world. 

[75] 


ODES 

I  had  a  vision  of  the  King  of  Pain 
Uplifted  o'er  the  souls  of  human  hurts 
In  terrible  Atonement;  and  his  eyes, 
Anguisht  and  compassionate,  were  on  them 

turned 

Everlastingly,  and  everlastingly 
His  palms,  nail-riven  to  the  Cross,  were  spread 
In  awful  benediction  o'er  their  woe. 

Yea,  I  beheld  the  Lordship  of  the  World 
Midmost  of  the  circling  universe  enthroned 
In  high  and  kingly  beauty;  and  I  knew 
The  sovereign  cost  of  life,  and  again  I  knew 
The  sovereign  redemption;  and  I  saw 
How  through  the  aching  aeons  still  is  paid 
The  price  of  beauty  in  a  price  of  pain. 


[76] 


DITHYRAMBIC  INTERLUDE 

Awake!    For  the  white-pillared  porches 
Of  dawn  are  flung  open  to  day! 


VII 

Allegro  appassionato 

Awake!     For  the  white-pillared  porches 

Of  dawn  are  flung  open  to  day! 
And  the  jubilant  voices  of  morning 
With  laughter  and  boisterous  warning 
On,  on  through  the  azuring  arches 
Summon  away! 

Awake !    They  are  dead  who  are  sleeping  I 

Awake!    They  who  drowse  are  unborn! 
Tis  the  voice  of  the  summoning  spirit, 
And  they  who  delay  when  they  hear  it 
Are  the  lame  and  the  halt  and  the  creeping 
Creatures  of  scorn! 


[79] 


ODES 

'Tis  a  radiant  damsel  arraying 

Her  beauties  with  ruby  and  pearl, — 
'Tis  the  scarlet  and  gold  and  the  glamour 
Where  mid  clashing  of  arms  and  mid  clamor 
Of  trumpets  and  war-horses  neighing 
Banners   outfurl, — 

'Tis  the  leap  and  the  swing  of  the  dancers, 
Where  the  torches  are  circling  on  high, 
Who  call  on  strange  gods  in  their  madness 
To  stay  them,  to  stay  them  of  gladness, — 
'Tis  the  pitiless  charge  of  the  lancers 
That  smite  hip  and  thigh, — 

'Tis  the  rush  of  the  blood  in  its  prisons, 

'Tis  the  beat  of  the  blood  in  the  ears, 
'Tis  the  shock  of  the  heart  and  the  shiver 
Of  the  soul  when  the  red  living  river 
Is  let  and  the  strength  of  man  wizens 
Under  white  fears! 

[80] 


ODES 

Oh,  swifter  than  the  wings  of  the  eagle 

And  stronger  than  he  is  Desire — 
And  she  grippeth  the  soul  unreleasing, 
And  she  troubleth  the  soul  without  ceasing, 
And  she  fareth  afar  on  her  regal 
Pinions  of  fire. 

And  nearer  than  sight  is  or  hearing, 
And  keener  than  pain  is  or  bliss, 
Are  her  light  and  her  sound  and  her  passion 
Where  she  patiently  layeth  her  lash  on 
And  striketh  the  soul  with  endearing 
And  terrible  kiss : 

And  deeper  than  sleep  is  or  death  is, 
And  shrewder  than  life  is  or  love 
Are  the  surge  and  the  sweep  of  endeavor, 
Like  a  turbulent  wind,  like  the  fever 
Of  a  burning  tornado  whose  breath  is 
Whirled  from  above: 


[81] 


ODES 

Oh,  the  glittering  things  ye  call  real  things, 

And  the  glittering  thoughts  ye  call  truth, 
They  are  trinkets  and  baubles  and  apings 
For  children  and  impotent  shapings 
Of  the  cowardly  hearts  that  conceal  things 
Burdened  with  ruth. 

They  are  weaves  out  of  dream  and  illusion, 

They  are  fabricks  of  mockery  and  cheat, 
And  their  show  is  but  shamming  of  graces, 
And  they  stead  ye  in  ruinous  places, 
And  their  work  is  a  work  of  confusion 
Compact  in  deceit. 

Yea,  the  glittering  things  ye  call  real  things, 
They  are  bauble  and  toy,  they  are  dream,- 
But  the  world  that  is  real  is  another 
Than  this  where  we  swelter  and  smother 
And  in  tawdry  and  tinsel  conceal  things 
Meant  to  redeem. 


[82] 


ODES 

And  the  heart  of  the  man  that  is  fearless, 

And  the  vision  of  him  that  is  wise, 
They  are  strong  unto  Nature's  revealing, 
And  he  bursteth  the  seals  of  her  sealing, 
And  layeth  her  beauteous  and  peerless 
Prone  to  his  eyes. 

Till  the  edge  of  the  world  is  upblazing 
With  pillars  of  thunderous  flame, 

And  the  breadth  of  the  world  is  resplendant 

With  scintillant  glories  ascendant 

From  nadir  to  zenith  upraising 
Tempestuous  brame. 

Oh,  nearer  than  seeing  or  touch  is, 
And  keener  than  bliss  is  or  pain, 
Are  the  quiver  and  thrill  of  her  haunting 
And  the  tug  of  her  Tantalus  taunting, 
Till  the  life  that  we  nourish  and  dutch  is 
A  thing  of  disdain. 


ODES 

Awake!     For  as  dead  are  the  sleeping! 

Awake !     As  unborn  he  who  nods ! 
But  the  summoning  voice  of  the  spirit, 
It  shall  rouse,  it  shall  rouse  them  that  hear  it 
From  the  ranks  of  the  lame  and  the  creeping 

Up  to  the  conquering  gods ! 


[84] 


ODE  V 

There  comes  a  kind  of  quieting  with  years 


VIII 

Adagio  elegiac o 
There  comes  a  kind  of  quieting  with  years 

Which  soothes  our  griefs  and  stills  the  turbu- 
lent fears 

That  threat  and  sting  the  youth 
Of  man, — whose  heritage  is  ruth 
Of  ancient  deed,  and  flicker  of  old  thought 
Deep  smouldering,  and  dead  love's  heavy  dole, 
And  taunt  of  buried  passions  in  the  soul, — 
The  saintliness  and  sin  of  sires  forgot. 

Yes,  there  is  quiet  as  our  elder  days 
Give  us  in  thrall  to  the  accustomed  ways 
Which  our  tamed  wearied  feet 
Impassively  repeat. .  * 
A  quiet  and  a  peace 
Sabbatical  and  solemn, 
Like  to  the  still  and  sunny  mood 
[87] 


ODES 

That  falls  to  bless 

With  strange  and  delicate  loveliness 
Some  antique  column 
Standing  amid  its  solitude 
Of  vine  and  ruin, — until  the  smart 
Of  olden  passion  fain  would  heal, 
And  a  cool  and  balmy  ease 
Suffuses  the  tired  limbs,  and  reveries  steal 
With  ministering  gentleness 
Upon  the  stilling  heart. 

There  comes  a  quieting,  and  the  strength  to 

view 

With  even  contemplation 
The  full  narration 

Of  men's  ways,  and  to  sever  false  from  true. 
And  the  high  court  of  the  ages 
Marshals  her  witnessing  years  and  sits 
In  patient  judgment,  while  her  graybeard  sages 
With  thoughtful  and  compassionate  eyes 
Decipher  the  dark  writs 
Of  human  deed.  . . 

[88] 


ODES 

Outmeasuring  life's  meed 

Of  joy  against  its  costly  sacrifice, 

And  laying  bare 

Unto  the  foolish  and  the  wise 

The  ways  that  men  must  fare. 

Across  the  glass  of  time 
Darkling  as  in  a  shadowy  mime 
Slow  flit  the  images  of  those 
Who  blindly  sought  and  chose 
With  zealous  blindness, — each 
Unto  the  led  multitude 
Striving  to  teach 
His  vision  of  the  good. 

Came  he  who  walked  with  feet  unshod 
The  burning  wilderness,  content  to  eat 
Locusts  and  wild  honey  for  his  meat 
And  brother  with  the  beasts  that  slink 
In  silence  to  their  brackish  nightly  drink, 
So  he  might  find  his  solitary  God: 
[89] 


ODES 

And  he  who  taught 

In   flowing  vestments  with   rich   broidery 

wrought, 
Mid  pleasant  gardens  voluptuous  with  the 

sweet 

Of  roses,  joying  in  the  lissome  line 
Of  maiden  youth,  and  finding  the  divine 
In  gracious  flagons  of  empurpled  wine: 

And  he  who  sat 

Beneath  the  spreading  tree 

Of  contemplation,  impassively 

To  Arhat  and  to  Bodhisat  8 

Pointing  the  Fourfold  Way  unto  surcease 

Of  human  ill  and  ire 

In  the  nerveless  soul's  release 

From  soul's  desire: 

He  in  whose  trumpeted  tones  resound 
The  thunderings  of  battle, 
Calling  his  crescent  squadrons, — till  in  red  pall 
[90] 


ODES 

Of  flame  and  blood  the  sickened  world  is  wound, 
And  wide  around 

Is  shrieking  and  shouting  and  the  grisly  rattle 
Of  death  at  the  throats  of  men,  and  crash 
Of  hurtling  charges,  where  the  nations  flee  and 

fall 

Like  driven  cattle 
Under  the  blizzard's  lash: 

And  He  who  gave.  .  .gave  all 

The  sweetness  of  His  life  to  piteous  pain 

That  men  might  gain 

A  strange  and  distant  and  redeeming  grace 

Which  in  the  Kingdom's  day  should  fall 

Like  a  sacred  halo  o'er  the  face 

Of  the  anguisht  Universe, 

Healing  its  hidden  curse. 

Yea,  these  be  they 

Whom  men  have  followed.  . .    But  who  shall 
say, 


ODES 

Who  then  shall  say  what  life  is  wise?.  . ;/ 
There  were  ten  virgins,  and  of  them  five 
Were  foolish  virgins,  walking  in  sorrow, 
Nor  light  nor  wisdom  might  they  borrow, 
Nor  might  they  wistfully  arrive 
To  greet  the  bridegrom,  save  by  aid 
Of  their  own  groping  hands  and  blinded  eyes 
So  to  their  folly  was  their  love  betrayed. 

Through  all  the  years 

Of  human  laughter  and  of  human  tears 

Sages  and  jesters,  turn  by  turn 

Essay  the  riddle .  . .    And  the  teachers  learn 

And  the  learners  teach 

While  the  slow  centuries  slow  upreach 

Where  the  world's  elusjve  Wisdom  broods 

In  cloudy  majesty  o'er  hidden  altitudes. . . 

There  comes  a  kind  of  quieting  with  years 
And  with  the  years  there  comes 
A  high  and  eerie  peace, — 
[92] 


ODES 

As  the  homing  spirit  nears 

The  sought  release 

From  her  too  mortal  sense. . ., 

And  as  in  a  swound 

Supernal  she  is  enwound 

Within  a  pulse  of  melody,  and  in  her  ear, 

Nearer  than  sound  is  near, 

A  suave  voice  hums 

A  sky-born  music,  and  all  the  world  is  tense 

With  loveliness .  . .    And  the  leaven 

Of  beauty  within  the  spirit  burning 

Summons  her  ever  higher, — 

Yea,  as  the  stars  inspire 

The  plangent  waves  that  leap  with  ceaseless 

yearning 
Sonorously  to  heaven. 


[93] 


POSTLUDE 

Earth!    Thou  wen  his  Mother 


IX 

Largo 

Earth ! 

Thou  wert  his  Mother, 
Who  was  conceived  within  thy  fiery  womb 
Ere  time  began 

And  by  the  laboring  years  brought  forth 
Unto  the  stalwart  stature  of  a  Man, — 
Thou  wert  his  body's  Mother, 
As  thou  shalt  be  his  dread 
And  desert  tomb 
When  all  thy  myriad  life  is  gone, 
And  on  and  on 
Thou  still  dost  keep 

An  even  pace,  an  even  pace,  though  dead, 
With  thy  far-shining  sisters  of  the  Deep: 

Earth! 

Thou  wert  his  Mother, 
But  his  high  sire — 

[97] 


ODES 

First  of  the  deathless  gods — was  of  another 

And  a  lordlier  line: 

Eros,  of  the  glowing  wings,9 

Eros,  dartler  of  desire, 

Bright  son  of  Beauty,  in  whose  blood  divine 

There  is  immortal  fever 

And  such  a  quickening  fire 

As  glorifieth  aye  the  tears  of  things 

And  fresheneth  Love  forever. 


[98] 


NOTES 


NOTES 

A  theme  of  the  scope  of  that  here  undertaken  must 
naturally  be  supported  by  a  body  of  allusions  drawn 
from  diverse  sources  and  representing  diverse  cultures. 
It  is  inevitable,  in  such  case,  that  the  thinking  of  any 
one  man  will  light  upon  illustrations  of  unequal  general 
familiarity.  Doubtless  all  of  the  allusions  in  the  pres- 
ent work  will  be  familiar  to  many  readers ;  but  it  seems 
much  to  expect  that  all  will  be  familiar  to  all  readers. 
Accordingly  the  author  deems  it  worth  while  to  add  the 
following  notes  explanatory  of  those  passages  which 
refer  to  facts  that,  upon  reflection,  seem  most  accidental 
to  our  general  store  of  knowledge. 

1  The  Wakan  of  the  Middle  Sky: 

Wakan,  or  Wakanda,  is  the  Siouan  term  for  the 
powers  that  control  and  animate  Nature.  With  the 
Plains  Indians  generally  the  heavens  were  regarded  as 
comprising  more  than  one  region,  the  upper  heaven, 
the  Shining  Quiet,  the  abode  of  the  Great  Father 
Spirit,  and  the  Middle  Region  occupied  by  the  medi- 
ators between  the  Deity  above  and  Man  below;  among 
these  mediators  the  Eagle  was  naturally  prominent. 
The  strophe  deals  with  the  widely  prevalent  Indian 
custom  of  sending  a  youth,  on  the  verge  of  manhood, 
[101] 


ODES 

to  fast  and  keep  vigil  in  the  wilderness  until  the 
spiritual  powers  of  Nature  reveal  to  him  the  tutelary 
who  is  1 2  he  hk  guide  and  guardian  in  the  career  of  life. 

2  The  Gods  of  Aztlan: 

Aztlan  was  the  traditional  home,  in  the  far  North- 
west, whence  the  Aztec  nation  set  forth,  under  the 
guidance  of  its  gods,  on  the  march  of  conquest  which 
was  to  make  it  the  dominant  power  of  pre-Spanish 
Mexico.  "  A  less  lovely  set  of  Olympians  than  the 
Aztec  gods  it  is  difficult  to  conceive,"  says  Andrew 
Lang,  and  the  briefest  perusal  of  Fray  Bernardino  de 
Sahagun's  description  of  this  pantheon  of  monsters  will 
amply  confirm  Lang's  judgment.  Foremost,  at  least 
in  monstrosity,  stands  the  great  warrior  deity,  Huitzilo- 
pochtli.  Prescott  describes  his  image  as  the  Spaniards 
first  beheld  it:  "  His  countenance  was  distorted  into 
hideous  lineaments  of  symbolical  import.  In  his  right 
hand  he  wielded  a  bow,  and  in  his  left  a  bunch  of 
golden  arrows,  which  a  mystic  legend  had  connected 
with  the  victories  of  his  people.  The  huge  folds  of  a 
serpent,  consisting  of  pearls  and  precious  stones,  were 
coiled  round  his  waist,  and  the  same  rich  materials 
were  profusely  sprinkled  over  his  person.  On  his  left 
foot  were  the  delicate  feathers  of  the  humming-bird, 
which,  singularly  enough,  gave  its  name  to  the  dread 
deity.  The  most  conspicuous  ornament  was  a  chain  of 
gold  and  silver  hearts  alternate,  suspended  round  his 
[102] 


ODES 

neck,  emblematical  of  the  sacrifice  in  which  he  most 
delighted.  A  more  unequivocal  evidence  of  this  was 
afforded  by  three  human  hearts  smoking  and  almost 
palpitating,  as  if  recently  torn  from  the  victims,  and 
now  lying  on  the  altar  before  him !  "  An  incredible 
tradition  had  it  that  more  than  seventy  thousand  victims 
were  sacrificed  at  the  dedication  of  his  great  teocalli 
(temple  pyramid)  in  the  Aztec  capital. 

Less  repulsive  is  the  god  Quetzalcoatl,  who  seems  to 
have  been  supreme  among  the  Toltec  predecessors  of 
the  Aztecs.  It  was  his,  says  Fray  Bernardino,  to  dust 
the  roads  for  the  rain  spirits,  because  "  before  the  un- 
chaining of  the  waters  come  great  winds  and  clouds  of 
dust."  The  beautiful  green  tail  feathers  of  the  quetzal 
bird  (Pharomacrus  mocinno)  formed  the  panache  of 
this  divinity. 

The  mythic  foeman  of  Quetzalcoatl  was  Tezcatli- 
poca  ("the  gleaming  mirror"),  regarded,  according 
to  the  Fray,  as  "  a  god  true  and  invisible,  who  pene- 
trates all  places  in  heaven  and  earth  and  hell."  As  he 
wanders  about  the  earth  he  raises  wars,  enmities,  dis- 
sensions, turning  man  against  man,  until  he  earns  the 
epithet  "  Sower  of  Discord."  Tezcatlipoca  is  the 
ruler  of  the  world,  whose  "  sight  and  hearing  penetrate 
wood  and  stone  "  and  from  whose  whim,  for  good  or 
for  ill,  is  no  escape.  "  Lord  of  Battles,  Emperor  of  all, 
invisible  and  impalpable,"  he  is  addressed;  and  in  the 
world-weary  mood  of  the  Aztec  suppliant,  "  We  men, 
[103] 


ODES 

we  are  but  a  spectacle  before  you,  your  theatre  serving 
for  your  laughter  and  diversion." 

3  Ormazd  and  Ahriman  warring  light  with  night; 
And  Mithras,  the  Conqueror,  who  gave 
The  blood  baptism  of  the  cave: 

The  Persian  god  Mithras  was  the  mythic  incarna- 
tion of  the  conquering  light  of  heaven  which  puts  to 
flight  the  powers  of  darkness,  led  by  the  evil  Ahriman. 
Symbolically  he  is  the  god  of  courage  and  righteousness 
and  wisdom  and  honor,  and  again  he  is  intercessor  for 
man  with  Ormazd  and  the  lesser  spirits  of  heaven. 
The  worship  of  Mithras  passed  into  the  Western 
world,  with  many  other  Oriental  cults,  in  the  declin- 
ing days  of  paganism,  and  before  it  was  finally  van- 
quished became  the  chief  rival  of  Christianity.  Its 
rites  were  celebrated  in  underground  chapels ;  and  con- 
spicuous among  these  rites  was  the  tauroboliumf  the 
sacrifice  of  the  bull — symbolic  of  the  cosmic  bull  con- 
quered by  the  god — whose  blood  was  allowed  to  drip 
upon  the  naked  mystic  in  a  crypt  beneath  the  latticed 
place  of  sacrifice.  This  baptism  of  blood,  says  Cumont, 
was  regarded  as  a  renovation  of  the  human  soul. 
Mithraism  was  to  a  great  extent  the  religion  of  the 
Roman  legionaries,  by  whom  it  was  carried  all  over  the 
Empire,  and  who,  naturally  enough,  stressed  the  mili- 
tary virtues  and  prowess  of  their  divinity,  his  oft-ap- 
[104] 


ODES 

plied  epithets  being  Invictus,  Insuperabilis:  he  was  the 
Conquering  Light,  through  courage  and  prowess  and 
through  his  sympathy  for  suffering  humanity,  a 
Saviour  of  Men. 

*  Curete,  Bacchant  and  wild  Corybant, 
Rapt  Maenad  by  the  god  intoxicant, 
And  the  swift-dancing  rout 
Of  frenzied  Galli  raising  olden  shout 
To  Attisand  to  Cybele: 

The  orgiastic  religions,  taking  their  rise  mainly  in 
Asia  Minor,  which  from  time  to  time  swept  the  Classic 
peoples  with  passions  of  intemperance,  centered  their 
appeal  in  the  personalities  of  two  great  Nature  deities, 
— the  Mothering  Earth  and  her  ever-dying  and  ever- 
reviving  lover,  the  divine  spirit  of  vegetation.  Charac- 
teristic of  the  worship  was  the  rout  of  wild  torch-bear- 
ing dancers  attendant  upon  the  mother  Goddess.  Such 
were  the  Curetes  of  Crete,  such  the  Corybants  of 
Phrygia.  The  typical  form  of  the  goddess  was  Cybele, 
"  the  Great  Mother  of  the  Gods,"  whose  worship,  with 
that  of  her  lover-god  Attis,  was  introduced  into  Rome 
about  200  B.  c.  Her  priests  were  the  emasculate  Galli, 
who  celebrated  the  union  of  the  goddess  and  her  lover 
with  wild  cries  to  Hymen,  god  of  marriage:  "  lo 
Hymen  Hymenaee !  "  Very  similar,  and  perhaps  of  a 
like  origin,  were  the  revelries  in  honor  of  Dionysus, 

[105] 


ODES 

spirit  of  wine, — Bacchant  and  Maenad  following  their 
deity  in  a  delirium  of  intoxication  which  seemed  to 
them  veritable  possession  by  the  spirit  of  divinity.  The 
Semitic  parallel  to  Cybele  and  Attis  came  to  the  Classic 
peoples  in  the  myth  of  "  Venus  and  Adonis/'  Adonis 
being  the  Phoenician  form  of  the  vegetation  god  else- 
where in  the  Semitic  world  known  as  Tammuz.  It  is 
the  lamentation  for  this  yearly-dying  deity  that  is  men- 
tioned in  Ezekiel  8,  14:  "Then  he  brought  me  to 
the  door  of  the  gate  of  the  Lord's  house  which  was 
toward  the  north ;  and,  behold,  there  sat  women  weep- 
ing for  Tammuz." 

5  The  War  of  Light  and  Chaos: 

In  the  well-nigh  universal  Cosmogonic  myth,  varied 
as  its  details  may  be,  primeval  Chaos,  conceived  as  a 
gloom-loving  monster,  is  overcome  by  a  hero-god  of 
light,  who  fashions  the  orderly  universe  from  the  body 
of  the  slain  monster.  Perhaps  the  oldest  version  we 
possess  of  this  myth  is  that  given  in  the  "Creation 
Epic "  of  the  Babylonians,  itself  based  upon  more 
ancient  Accadian  sources.  In  this  poem  Tiamat,  the 
Raging  Deep,  personates  Chaos  and  leads  the  hosts  of 
Darkness  against  the  gods  of  Light.  The  hero-god  is 
the  great  sun-tutelary  of  Babylon,  Bel-Marduk,  who 
proceeds  against  the  monsters  with  lightning  in  front 
of  him  and  his  body  filled  with  living  fire.  So  terrible 
is  he  that  of  all  the  nether  demons  only  Tiamat  ven- 
[106] 


ODES 

tures  to  withstand  his  attack.  The  combat  is  thus  de- 
scribed (following  Professor  Jastrow's  translation): 

Tiamat  shrieked  with  piercing  cries, 

She  trembled  and  shook  to  her  very  foundations. 

She  pronounced  an  incantation,   she  uttered  her   spell, 

And  the  gods  of  the  battle  took  to  their  weapons. 

Then    Tiamat    and    Marduk,    the    leader    of    the    gods, 

stood  up, 

They  advanced  to  the  fray,  drew  nigh  to  the  fight. 
The  lord  spread  out  his  net  and  caught  her, 
The  evil  wind  behind  him  he  let  loose  in  her  face. 
As  Tiamat  opened  her  mouth  to  its  full  extent, 
He  drove  in  the  evil  wind  before  she  closed  her  lips. 
The  mighty  winds  filled  her  stomach, 
Her  heart  failed  her,  and  she  opened  wide  her  mouth; 
He  seized  the  spear  and  pierced  her  stomach, 
He  cut  through  her  organs  and  slit  open  her  heart. 
He  bound  her  and  cut  off  her  life. 
He  cast  down  her  carcass  and  stood  upon  it. 

As  one  cuts  "  a  flattened  fish  "  Bel-Marduk  shears  into 
halves  the  body  of  Tiamat,  fashioning  from  one  of  the 
halves  "  the  dam  of  Heaven  "  which  protects  the  uni- 
verse beneath  from  the  all-enveloping  cosmic  waters. 
Herein  he  sets  the  stations  of  the  stars  and  the  heavenly 
bodies,  while  below  he  fashions  "  the  mountain  of 
Earth  "  as  the  habitation  of  man. 

6  The  marble  tent  of  Mogul  Akbar: 
Futtehpore  Sikhri  was  founded  by  Akbar,  the  great- 

[107] 


ODES 

est  and  wisest  of  the  Mogul  rulers  of  India  and  one 
of  the  greatest  men  of  human  history,  about  1570.  It 
was  adorned  by  its  builder  with  structures  which  rank 
among  the  architectural  masterpieces  of  all  time,  and 
the  town  as  a  whole  is  doubtless  the  most  beautiful 
creation  of  the  Oriental  builders'  art.  Within  a  gen- 
eration of  Akbar's  death,  however,  it  was  abandoned, 
probably  because  of  scarcity  of  water;  and  it  has  since 
been  maintained  by  the  rulers  of  India  rather  as  a 
monument  than  as  a  place  of  residence. 

7  Cibolas  golden  seven: 

The  "  Seven  Golden  Cities  of  Cibola  "  were  the  ob- 
ject of  Spanish  quests  north  from  Mexico  in  the 
Seventeenth  Century,  the  notable  expedition  being  that 
of  1640,  led  by  Coronado,  which  penetrated  probably 
as  far  north  as  the  valley  of  the  Platte.  The  seven 
cities  are  presumed  to  have  been  the  pueblos  of  the  In- 
dians of  New  Mexico  and  Arizona,  the  fable  of  their 
riches  being  the  color  which  Spanish  desire  gave  to 
vague  accounts  of  Indian  cities  in  the  far  North. 

8  To  Arhat  and  to  Bodhisat 
Pointing  the  Four-fold  Way: 

'Arhat  and  Bodhisat  are  the  names,  in  Southern  and 
Northern  Buddhism,  for  one  who  has  acquired  the 
highest  degree  of  saintship  and  may  expect  in  the  next 

[108] 


ODES 

incarnation  to  appear  as  a  buddha.  Gautama  Buddha 
is  traditionally  said  to  have  taught  beneath  the  sacred 
bo  tree  at  Buddh  Gaya  in  Bengal,  where  the  light  of 
revelation  first  came  to  him.  Fundamental  in  his 
teaching  is  the  doctrine  that  Nirvana,  the  blessed  state 
of  those  freed  from  the  fateful  chain  of  incarnate  lives, 
is  to  be  won  through  knowledge  of  the  "  Four  Truths," 
— that  life  is  sorrow,  that  reincarnation  comes  of  desire, 
that  escape  is  through  annihilation  of  desire,  and  that 
the  way  to  this  escape  is  righteousness  in  belief  and 
resolve,  in  word  and  deed,  in  life  and  endeavor,  in 
thought  and  meditation. 

9  Eros,  of  the  glowing  wings: 

Perhaps  the  most  penetrating  conception  which 
Greek  religious  thought  has  given  us  is  that  of  the  role 
of  Love,  the  god  Eros,  in  the  creation  of  the  world. 
In  the  very  substance  of  primeval  Chaos  is  Love,  a 
procreant  essence;  Love  is  first  of  the  Immortals  to 
assume  form,  and  throughout  the  cosmic  course  Love 
is  the  lording  spirit  in  the  body  of  Being.  So  already 
with  Hesiod :  "  First  Chaos  was,  and  then  broad- 
bosomed  Earth,  and  after,  Love,  most  beautiful  of  the 
deathless  gods."  And  the  Eleatic  Parmenides  tells 
how  Hestia,  the  central  fire  of  the  Universe,  "  fore- 
most of  the  gods,  yea,  foremost  of  all  the  gods,  gave 
birth  to  Love."  More  poetically  Aristophanes:  From 
the  cosmic  egg  in  the  bosom  of  Erebos,  sprang  forth 

[109] 


ODES 

"  Eros,  the  longed-for,"  the  wind-swift  Eros,  "  gleam- 
ing with  golden  wings."  With  a  touch  of  mystic 
pantheism,  Plato  makes  Love  the  spirit  of  communion 
between  god  and  man ;  while  a  keener  feeling  both  for 
its  mortal  poignancy  and  its  immortal  promise  is  in 
Euripides'  wonderful  choral  prayer,  so  finely  trans- 
lated by  Gilbert  Murray: 

Eros,  Eros,  who  blindest,  tear  by  tear, 

Men's  eyes  with  hunger;  thou  swift  Foe  that  pliest 
Deep  in  our  hearts  joy  like  an  edged  spear; 
Come  not  to  me  with  Evil  haunting  near, 
Wrath  on  the  wind,  nor  jarring  of  the  clear 

Wing's  music  as  thou  fliest! 
There  is  no  shaft  that  burneth,  not  in  fire, 
Not  in  wild  stars,  far  off  and  flinging  fear, 
As  in  thine  hands  the  shaft  of  All  Desire, 

Eros,  Child  of  the  Highest! 


[no] 


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